


King Snow & the Blood Mage

by jonsasnow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Crown prince Jon, F/M, King Arthur AU, Lyanna is a Snow and was queen of the realm, Mage Sansa, Protector Robb, Rhaegar is a dickbag, Somewhat follows the movie but not really, Three Eyed Raven Bran who is not a Stark in this, Warrior Arya, jonsa, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 02:04:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12784581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsasnow/pseuds/jonsasnow
Summary: The mages have died, their blood spilled in the War of the White Winter and the crown prince was said to have died with them, killed by the house that had been sworn to protect the Snows.But in the back alleys of King's Landing lives a young man with a lost past, whose destiny is bound to a young woman hidden in the mountains of the Eyrie. Theirs is a prophecy that could rid the kingdom of the darkness that had swallowed it for fifteen long years, but King Rhaegar is determined to put a stop to this prophecy at all cost.





	1. The Prophecy Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Wow okay sooo... this has been in my folder for ages. I've been wanting to do this AU justice for just as long and I'm finally posting the first chapter because if it's up, it might force me to continue it. I have most of the chapters planned out so I'm hoping it'll go smoothly.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys like it!! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

“Take her,” she commanded, the toddler in her arms shrieking and crying. Her tiny fists grab hold of Catelyn’s hair and refuse to let go. “Hush now, my love,” she whispered as she stroked the soft curls on her eldest daughter’s head. “You must be strong, Sansa. Be strong for your sister.” 

The toddler whimpered but her cries lessened until only soft rhythmic hiccups remained. She rubbed her nose and sniffled, her eyes darting from Catelyn’s to the sleeping babe in Morreen’s arms. 

“My sweet girl,” Catelyn cooed, wiping the wetness from her cheeks and drawing her attention back. “Tonight, the darkness has come for our world and it may seem that it has taken all hope with it, but you must never forget who you are.” Her daughter blinked back with unchildlike awareness. “You are Sansa Stark. The blood of the First Mages run through your veins. You will be the hope that guides this world back into the light. Do you understand me, child?” 

Her husband may not hold much faith in the prophecies of the old, but Catelyn did, and if what they whisper was true, Sansa’s destiny was pivotal in the great war to come. 

“Y-yes, mama,” her daughter hiccuped. 

“When the time comes, the Three-Eyed Raven will find you,” Catelyn told her. “But until then, you listen to Morreen and you watch out for Arya. She is your responsibility now. She is your sister.” 

Sansa nodded gravely, her lips trembling again. “But mama stay?” 

The question made Catelyn’s heart ache painfully. “I can’t, sweetling. I must protect your brother. He still needs me here,” she murmured, as she dropped a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. Catelyn placed Sansa on the ground and turned to Arya to leave a kiss onto her youngest’s downy head as well. 

“Take care of them, Morreen,” Catelyn said to the young mage. “Protect them with your life.” 

“Yes, m’lady.” 

With one last glance back at her daughters, Catelyn drew from her last vestiges of strength to turn around and leave them behind, knowing in her heart that she would never see them again. The darkness had come. One by one, the mages were dying. Catelyn could feel their deaths burning in her soul as the darkness continued to eat away at the light. Aerys’ army was advancing on Lyanna and her warriors. Soon, the world would wither away under his reign. It was easy in this moment to want to give up, but with Ned gone, it was up to Catelyn to protect her family and Robb was still in the castle.

She raced away from the river, finding a hidden path that circled the outside of the stone walls, leading up towards the battlements. From here, she could hear the war raging above her. The sound of men crying and fire sizzling through the air as it broke through their defences made her heart sink to her soles. Catelyn had to find him; she had to protect Robb. 

Slipping into the castle, Catelyn headed straight for the throne room where she knew the women and children would have gathered. Immediately, her eyes found them, huddled in a corner together. Her heart seized at the sight. While Catelyn and Lyanna had never seen eye-to-eye, Ned had always loved the good queen like a sister and he had died fighting for her. Catelyn would do the same – for her, for Lyanna’s son and for Catelyn’s own children. Snow or Stark, they were bound by destiny. 

“Robb,” she called for him. Her son looked up, blue eyes so like her own widened in relief, and swiftly, he grabbed hold of the crown prince and pulled him to a standing position. The two boys ran over to her. Catelyn opened her arms and held them both. “My boys,” she said, keeping her voice as strong as she could under the circumstance. “We must leave. _Now._ ” 

“Mother?” Robb looked perplexed. “Should we not stay here in the castle?” 

The crown prince nodded. “Father says we’ll be safe here.” 

Catelyn sighed, running a hand over Jon’s inky curls. He was only two years younger than her own son, but he seemed smaller now, more frail than a boy of six. “We _must_ leave. Will you trust me?” Jon nodded and Catelyn offered him a warm smile.

The sounds of war raged on outside as she led the two boys down further into the castle. If Lyanna survived this war, she would find them both and then she would find Sansa and Arya, but Catelyn’s heart weighed heavy in her chest, something dark curling around it like a vice, and she knew in the deepest reaches of her soul that this was not the night of victories. Tonight, blood would be spilled; tonight, the world would taste its first drop of evil. 

The stone walls of the castle flickered with amber light from the torches as they cast long skeletal shadows along the ground. She could hear Jon and Robb whimper in fear, but she held tightly to their hands and hoped her strength would transfer to these boys. 

As they reached the dock at the foot of the castle, Catelyn instructed Jon to get into the boat as fast as he could and to wait there. As the young boy followed her command, Catelyn dropped to her knees and gripped her son’s shoulders tightly. 

“Robb, I need you to listen to me,” she spoke quickly. “The mages are dying. There is a great evil coming, but you must not be afraid, my love.” She ran her thumb across his plump rosy cheek, heartbroken over the loss of her son’s childhood over what she would ask of him. “You must be strong and you _must_ protect the prince. There will come a time when your sisters will find you, and together, Stark and Snow will restore the world to light. But until then, you stay hidden. Do you understand?”

Robb nodded, but his eyes pooled with tears. He always understood more than most children; her son was as astute as his father. “You will not come?”

“My duty is to Lyanna,” she spoke carefully. “I must protect her. She needs –” 

“Where are you taking my son!” 

His gruff voice tore Catelyn away from Robb. She whirled around, the cloak she wore billowing out as she did so, hiding her son from view. “Run, Robb. Go _now_ ,” she whispered urgently. She heard his footsteps pad softly on the wooden dock and the sound of the boat swishing in the river behind her. Catelyn inhaled deeply and glared at the man before her. “What have you done, Rhaegar? What have you caused?” 

“I am fulfilling a prophecy, dear Catelyn,” he said with resignation. “Only with the blood of a Dragon will the world find its path.” 

“Are you so vain to think that could be you? Are you as mad as your father?” Catelyn ground out, hating the man before her with more venom in her soul than anything she had ever felt before. 

Rhaegar’s eyes flashed violet. “You cannot speak to your king this way! Where is my son? Jon!” He shoved Catelyn to the floor as he strode forward. “Jon, stop!” He tried to reach for the boat, but Catelyn pulled out a thin dagger and caught him in the shin before he could get too far. Rhaegar’s cry echoed in the night. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her harshly up. “You will pay for this. You will burn just like your husband had.” 

“I didn’t want to believe it… I didn’t want to imagine that my own husband could betray me so.” Lyanna stepped forward slowly, the light of the moon glinting off of her armour and Excalibur. “What have you _done_ , Rhaegar?” 

“I did what I must,” he said. “For the realm, Lyanna. For our son.” 

A shock of pain ran through her body as Catelyn tumbled to the floor. Her hand instantly sought out the wound in her abdomen. Death had come for her as she had seen it; she tried to tell Lyanna it would be okay, but the queen always had more iron in her blood than most. She raised Excalibur and brought it down on Rhaegar, who swung back, fire igniting along the shaft of his steel sword. Catelyn turned her body, her final breaths coming in short gasps. Robb had Jon in his arms, shielding him from the sight, while his own eyes filled with horror and pain.

“I love you,” Catelyn tried to say. “I love you, my young wolf.” 

Darkness encroached her, a cocoon of warmth and relief. It was time. The prophecy was in their hands now. May the gods have mercy on her children. May they watch over the prince. 


	2. The Dreams We Weave

_The kingdom was on fire, its capitol burning as dragons screeched overhead. Men, women and children screamed for relief, desperate for an end to their nightmares. Sansa stood at its centre, her hands dripping with blood, and she felt powerless to stop it. She tried to draw the magic from within her, but there was nothing, only emptiness, a void that stretched open her chest._

_Across the courtyard, a woman emerged with hair as red as the fire surrounding her. “Mama?” Sansa called out. The woman’s eyes snapped to hers, blue, so blue just like hers, and she opened her mouth to speak._

_“Mama!” Sansa was shouting now; she tried to run forward but her legs wouldn’t move. “Mama, wait! Don’t leave me!”_

_Blood spilled from her mother’s lips, dribbling down her chin and soaking the front of her cloak, turning grey into crimson. Sansa screamed._

_“You did this,” her mother spoke, a voice unlike anything Sansa’s ever heard. “You killed me. You killed us all!” Her mother’s voice broke, a shrill cry echoing from her lips, and in a puff of black smoke, she was gone. All that was left was her cloak, bloodied and torn, the head of a wolf ripped down the middle._

_“Mama, no… Please,” Sansa whimpered as she fell onto her knees. “I’m trying! I’ve been searching, Mama!”_

Sansa woke with a start, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. Sweat soaked through her gown and matted her copper hair to her forehead. She blinked away the sleep from her eyes and focused on the face peering over her. 

“Was it the same dream?” The cot creaked as her sister sat down beside her. She placed a wet towel over Sansa’s forehead. “Did you see…” 

“We have to keep searching,” Sansa said instead. The nightmares have come and gone since the night she left Camelot. Although they had been increasing in intensity, it only affirmed her conviction in her destiny – the destiny her mother had bestowed upon her before she died. 

Sansa sat up and took in the meagre cottage they had lived in for the past fifteen years. Two cots were set up on either end of the room, a rickety crumbling table in the middle, and a lonely-looking bookshelf to the side. It wasn’t much here in worldly possessions; it hardly even held any good memories for either sisters; but Morreen had kept them safe here for many years. Whatever they felt for the cottage, it’d been a home. 

Arya groaned. “We _have_ been searching. We’ve followed the Wolf’s Tail; we’ve been to the Twins Pass; we’ve looked _everywhere._ ” Her sister stood and walked over to her side of the cottage, throwing clothes into a rucksack. “I’m done, Sansa. I’m going.” 

“Going where? Where could you possibly go?” 

“King’s Landing,” her sister said, grey eyes snapping to Sansa’s defiantly. “There are rumours of a resistance there.”

“And you wish to fight?” Sansa scoffed. Her sister was young and lacked the foresight to see beyond immediate desires. She could not understand, as Sansa did, of the magnitude of what being a Stark meant, the duties they were born to uphold. “With what sword, Arya? Our fight is elsewhere. We are Starks; we are honour-bound to the –” 

“The Three-Eyed Raven? The Snows?” Arya glared at her. The open resentment in her eyes made Sansa ache with anger and regret. From the day she had been born, her sister had always had a mind of her own. “No one has seen the Three-Eyed Raven since before the war and the Snows? They’re _dead_. Maybe it’s time you accepted that.”

The regret she had felt only seconds earlier withdrew and anger unfurled deeply in her chest. “Our family did not die for us to just give up! We owe it to them to keep searching!” 

“I don’t know them!” Arya shouted. “I never knew _any of them_!” Her sister threw the rucksack onto the bed with a frustrated groan. “You keep telling me what it means to be a Stark and what our duty dictates. But all our lives, you have lived in your head with your fanciful tales of mages and warlocks, while I’ve had to follow you all over Westeros. I am not _you_. I am not a mage!” 

“Your magic could still manifest. You’re not yet eighteen. You never know, Arya,” she tried to soothe, well aware of this argument, so well-versed in fact that she could already guess what her sister’s response would be. 

“You are even more daft if you think it will in less than a year.” Arya laughed but it was bereft of humour. “You have your path, Sansa, and I have mine.”

Sansa should be diplomatic, try to speak some sense into her sister, remind her at least that they were safer in numbers. Being a Stark wasn’t like how it used to be; if anyone were to find out who she was in King’s Landing, she would be executed for witchcraft. But the anger resonating within her made her tongue sharp and her heart cold. “Then _leave_ ,” she said crisply. “You want to go? Then go!”

For the briefest of seconds, hurt filled her sister’s eyes and another bout of regret swam in hers, but if the two sisters shared any similarities, it was that they were both as stubborn as mules. Arya finished packing her rucksack and marched towards the door. She paused with a hand on the doorframe before she glanced back. “Good luck with your _raven_ ,” she spat out, slamming the door behind her as she left. 

Sansa fell back onto the cot, her head in her hands. She had failed. She had failed at everything. Fifteen years and the Three-Eyed Raven remained as elusive as ever, and now, she couldn’t even protect her sister. 

“My responsibility…” Sansa murmured. “How could I be responsible for such a pigheaded fool? How could I keep her safe when she does not wish to remain safe?”

 _Foolish_. Arya was foolish. She’d always been foolish. 

But was Sansa just as foolish? Was Sansa holding too tightly to the songs and stories of old that she’d blinded herself from the future? 

Shaking her head from such thoughts, Sansa began packing her own rucksack. If her nightmares were becoming more vivid, more intense, it meant that the great war her mother had warned her about was coming. She would have to be more prepared than ever. If she could not find the Three-Eyed Raven, it was time to find Jory Cassel. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++

_King’s Landing was burning. Everywhere he looked, he saw his people screaming for mercy from the fire surrounding them. Jon tried to help; he reached for them, but he was so far from the ground, he couldn’t do anything. The dragon he rode wouldn’t let him; it kept soaring higher and higher until the smoke dissipated into a clear bright sky._

_But then, Jon began circling down to a courtyard, drawn to it like there was something there he had to see. When he got close enough, he could make out a small figure below. It was a girl, young and frail, with hair kissed by fire. She was crying, calling out for her mother. Jon tried to comfort her, but the words wouldn’t come._

_Abruptly, her eyes snapped to his. They turned from a summer blue to two golden slits, and the dragon reared its head like it was in pain. Jon held onto its scales, fingers grappling for purchase, but it was flapping its wings, desperate to get away from the girl. In its haste, it clipped its wings on a building and Jon tumbled off, falling and falling until he hit the murky river that ran through the city._

_When Jon emerged, King’s Landing was gone, and before him was a dock. A small wooden dock with two people standing on it. They were arguing, fighting, but their words were muffled as if he was still underwater._

_The woman though… She looked so familiar._

_Jon called out to her. He wanted to know her name, to ask her why he was here, but the moment he drew her attention, the man speared his sword through her chest, cradling her body to him as she crumbled, bloodied and lifeless._

Sweat clung to his bare body as Jon jerked awake. 

He sat up in bed and rubbed his tired face. Every night now, he’d had this dream. It used to just be about the woman, but now there was the girl. He tried to ignore it, repress it as he normally did, but the lack of sleep was wearing him thin during the day. If not for his boys yesterday, he might not have made it out of the meeting with the Vikings injury-free. He had to get a hold of these nightmares somehow, find a way to stop them completely. It wasn’t as if any of it made any sense. He had never seen that woman before in his life, nor the girl. 

A knock came at his door. Jon threw on a loose tunic and ushered the person in. 

Robb took one look at him and sighed. “Nightmare?” 

Jon nodded faintly, but added for good measure,“I’m alright.” 

His friend looked unconvinced. “You say that, but that big ginger prick nearly lobbed your head off yesterday.” Robb smirked as he sat down across from him on a trunk. “Reckon you’re losing your touch there, Jon.” 

He frowned. “What is it you came here for?” 

“Ros is awake if you wanted to be the one to –” 

Jon nodded. “We’ll go together.” He moved to the back of his room where the wardrobe pushed open to reveal an alcove for the money he’d saved over the years. Robb was the only soul alive who knew the location of his loot – _their_ loot. 

For as long as Jon could remember, Robb had always been there. They were brothers, if not by name then by bond. Together, they had transformed the brothel into a place where the women could feel safe, the women who had raised them up together as if Jon and Robb were their own. Perhaps in another lifetime, Jon had entertained a life of honour and duty to a cause, but that was not what growing up in King’s Landing had taught him. Ruthlessness was rewarded and strength revered. Jon and Robb had both been beaten until those lessons were imprinted on their skin like red and purple bruises, but they had risen from the gutters of this hell and made something for themselves. No one could beat on them now; no one would dare. 

They walked together towards the second floor landing where the women slept. The second door to the left was Ros’ and as they entered, Jon took her in with a sad ache in his chest. She was a sorry sight, cut up and bruised like some discarded fruit. It made his blood boil once more to know what the Vikings had done. 

Robb went to sit by her side and took her hand in his. “We had a little chat with those Vikings yesterday, seems they forgot to pay you,” he said, smug as always, but even Jon was smug today. He plopped several bags of money onto her bed. 

“You boys shouldn’t have done that,” she said, though there was a smile on her lips. “That wasn’t your responsibility.” 

“Don’t be silly,” Robb said with a wave of his hand. “You girls have looked after us for far longer than we’ve looked after you. Isn’t that right, Jon?” 

“Aye,” he agreed. “Just accept it, Ros, and look after yourself.” 

Robb bent over and kissed her on the forehead. “Get some rest, love.” 

As they left the room, Robb leaned over and whispered, “those bloody Vikings deserve a second beating.” 

Jon snorted. “My thoughts exactly, but we harass them any more and we’ll draw attention to ourselves. Can’t have those Kingsguard pricks coming after us.” 

“Speaking of Kingsguard pricks, we have some visitors up front.”

“Did you let them in?” Jon turned towards Gendry, who was just coming up the stairs to get them. “We don’t –”

The man rolled his eyes. “Who do you take me for? Theon?” 

“Oi!” came a shout from below. 

Jon and Robb both shook their heads as they made their way down into the main area where the customers and women mingled and drank. Silence met them when they entered, only the banging from outside could be heard. 

“Open the door!” 

Everyone turned and looked to them.

Jon sighed and nodded to Robb, who gave the command. “Well? Let them ugly bastards in.” 


End file.
